


The Face of Gabriel

by Symmet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sam and Dean have a house, Sam likes to draw, Satan and Michael are hashing it out in the Pit, The Apocalypse ended nicely, The one where Sam has creepy drawing powers, gabriel is alive, good happy things, things happen but I don't know them yet, uh, why can't it be happy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-02-03 08:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1738154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Symmet/pseuds/Symmet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Gabriel is alive, the apocalypse ended with Sam out of the pit, and it's supposed to be a happy ending. Or something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the 12th century depiction of curly haired Gabriel who looks literally nothing like our Gabriel. Probably Sabriel.

After the apocalypse that wasn't, everyone sort of wasn't sure what to do with themselves. Sam and Dean decided to take a two year break. In reality they weren't sure how long it would last, but two years seemed like a good vacation. Of course, they could only go so long without nearly driving themselves mad not hunting anything. They managed to stay at Bobby's for about a month before they were tossed out on their asses. Then Castiel sent a couple angels to help, and, well, they bought a big white house and maybe some very endowed politicians noticed some of their funds went missing, but all in all not so bad.

Dean couldn't last longer than two weeks without going for an extensive drive in the impala and hunting something, so he sporadically took jobs from Cas. Sam decided against trying to finish law school. It would be hell faking an actual identity, and that seemed like a far away time when he'd thought he could run away from his fears instead of face them.

Anyways, he took to learning how to draw.

It was a stupid, pleasing past-time - nothing serious, just simple and stress free. He never mentioned it to anyone, of course.

Castiel returned to heaven and tried to work through things there. Then Raphael tried to bully him back into submission. He refused and was subsequently beat down. He showed up to their house, ordered them to stay, covered the place in so many sigils Dean swore they should pay him for the paint job (he didn't even stop to ask what Dean meant), and wouldn't ask or even let them help.

The only reason they stayed put was because he practically begged them to. Dean made him promise not to do anything stupid (then, apparently, after Cas left, Croweley showed up and tried to haggle him into a deal - for Purgatory! what the hell?! Naturally Castiel told him to shove it.) and then the waiting game was on. Three weeks. Dean was about to run up the walls from boredom when Castiel showed up with the most unlikely person ever.

Well, not a person per se.

Dean almost shut the door on Gabriel's grinning face (of course, he had insisted that they arrive and enter normally, "Cassie, it's more dramatic this way." "I do not understand. We are not trying to be dramatic."). But, after all the yelling, shouting, and crying (Gabriel made everyone cry, including Castiel, because he was disappointed with the dismal amount of drama he'd received upon his arrival. Sam had secretly been glad that Gabriel had returned, especially if it was to help Castiel with Heaven. Gabriel had looked up at him and winked. Freaking mindreading) had stopped and they had all sat around the small round coffee table with steaming mugs of hot cocoa (courtesy of one archangel), everything was explained.

Raphael was now more inclined to believe that God was not so much dead as purposefully missing in action as it was entirely out of either Michael's or Lucifer's abilities to raise an archangel - especially from the pit. Also, considering that fact that Lucifer had killed him in the first place... Naturally Raphael was stubborn, but he'd relented when Gabriel went 'The Archangel of Judgement' on his ass, and now Heaven was slowly trying to fix itself and decide what to do.

The most relieved was Castiel, who had "No idea how to explain free will to the others. It was...frustrating. Explaining freedom to angels is a bit like explaining poetry to fish." (Gabriel howled at that, laughed until there were tears in his eyes, clapped a confused Castiel on the back, who kept saying, "No, Gabriel, you are an archangel, your stomach cannot physically hurt from laughter." in bewilderment every time Gabriel insisted that he couldn't breath. Which only made Gabriel laugh harder.)

All in all, it was pretty good. Even if a partially insane trickster-norse god-archangel visited on the weekends.

And no matter how much Dean complained, they knew they really weren't bad off.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam was looking through an extensive text on angels (he may have wanted to learn Enochian. Of course, it was nearly impossible to find in human texts. He was loathe to bother Castiel, and afraid to get Gabriel's attention. Especially since the archangel had pent up trickster mojo that Raphael mostly forbade him to use. He was getting twitchy, according to Dean, who, along with Sam, now together dealt with at least the one prank a week. Of course, the hunter didn't mind too much, as Castiel immediately chided Gabriel and 'fawned' over him, as Sam took to saying when the angel wasn't around to hear it, much to Dean's annoyance in general) when he just completely lost interest with a groan and randomly flipped to somewhere in the middle.

To his surprise he landed on Gabriel's page. Everything in here was from 'direct' biblical sources (although there was thereafter a bunch of writing on the author's part like synopsis and speculation and such), so he already knew just about everything - back when the apocalypse had been on and no one knew exactly what was happening except that angels were involved, they'd gone on a bible kick. He hadn't read this particular book, which made him feel a little guilty, because if it hadn't been him, then it certainly hadn't been Dean, and that meant Bobby had spent hours pouring over the giant volume that was about seventy percent conjuncture on the sparse and sometimes vague knowledge imparted by biblical references to angels. Sam frowned and glanced over it as if he could make up for it by looking now.

But the thing that drew his attention - and a snort - as he turned the book on his lap and chuckled was the image of a curly haired drawing of Gabriel. It was strange looking already, because it wasn't necessarily drawn realistically, as was the stylist preference back then, but the expression - and hair, espcially - was just so different from the Gabriel he knew. Sam grinned to himself. This Gabriel looked like an awkward teenager with a really bad perm. Sam laughed quietly to himself and put the book back on the table. He contemplated it sitting there, and only waited a moment before pulling open on of the drawers and sliding it in, instead. He wouldn't be looking at that for a while. No matter how many bad yearbook pictures there were of the angels.

He wondered if there was a page on _Cas_. He chuckled again, and stretched before getting up.


	3. Chapter 3

He only realized he was drawing a realistic (and maybe kind of attractive) Gabriel when Castiel happened to see him drawing in his sketchpad and, peering over his shoulder, murmured a thoughtful, “Hm". Defensive of his meager artistic talents as well as of the fact that Dean didn't know and Castiel might tell him, he shut it immediately.

"What?" He said, twisting in his chair to look warily at the angel. "Also, don't tell Dean that I draw," he added as an afterthought.

Castiel frowned, "Why?"

"Because he would probably find it unmasculine and then make fun of me for it."

"But it's not-"

"I know. But it's Dean. Remember how he reacted when I asked for a hint of lemon in my salad that one time?" Of course Castiel remembered. He had 'angel memory banks' as Dean said.

"Ah." Castiel said, "I understand. Very well, I will not tell him." nodding so seriously in his mission to protect Sam's feelings that Samalmost forgot to ask around his grin, "Anyways, what was it?"

Castiel turned to leave when they heard Dean call from downstairs - giving Sam a resolute nod of promise - and said off-handedly, "It is the spitting image of Gabriel when he last had a vessel I knew."

Sam spluttered.

In that moment he realized he'd started drawing Gabriel all over his sketch-pad, and he was horrified. Well. He supposed it could be worse, he could have added wings. He was embarrassed to admit to himself that he had considered it several times, as a sort of joke about knowing actual angels. Instead of touching that, he said, "Wait, you knew Gabriel back then?"

Castiel paused, "No, but we saw the archangels from afar. It was...the body he supposedly died in when he went missing." His face flickers into one that is slightly stony and cold, _hurt_ , and Sam is sure that all of Heaven mourned the passing of the messenger, even the younger siblings who hadn't known him. Dean called again, and the expression slipped off, "I will not speak of it to Dean." The angel promises soberly, causing Sam to drop the severity of the previous thought and break into a grin, "Thanks, Cas. Appreciate it."  
  
He'd taken to drawing the character even more now. He was almost offended with himself, but what could he do? He'd liked the caricature before he'd learned it resembled a certain annoying archangel, and he wasn't going to drop it just because it looked like Gabe _used_ to. Of course, then he started drawing it as if it was Gabriel, and then he kind of accepted it shamelessly.

It was cute, in a way.

He'd draw the 'person' (he still refused to accept that he was drawing a archangel because it was really a seventeen year old boy) doing silly things or in strange poses - sometimes to amuse himself, and others for practice.

 _That's the great thing about him_ , Sam thought one day as he decisively sketched the boy conversing animatedly with a donkey, _he's very versatile_. He gets into all sorts of situations. Sam smiled to himself as he completed it with a small speech bubble from Gabriel ending some ridiculous account of a prank that was no doubt true.

But it wasn't always humorful. It could be quiet and thoughtful, too. If Sam was feeling like practicing with light and dark, or simply less comical art, he'd do it.

On another page he'd drawn the boy looking a bit forlornly from the roof of an old church adorned with snarling gargoyles. The boy was sitting straddled on one, looking over an oblivious city caught in a grey and windy day (it was all in pencil, so of course it would be grey, but Sam hoped he rendered distasteful weather well enough), small silhouettes of people walking the sidewalks below, hunched against a drizzle and the winds, some with umbrellas, all in long flapping coats.

The next page he'd adorned with ( _finally_ ) a winged one. He'd decided against asking Castiel if archangels actually did have three pairs of wings, and instead, gave the drawing just one pair. He suspected it was three pairs total, however many they wanted visible at will (Which he annotated besides the drawing), but he'd decided on two wings because they were much more individually expressive and the boy had a funny, laid back sort of pose, probably sightseeing in a dis-attached, entertained sort of way, amusing himself by pointing out the sort of silly things humans did or said.

Since it didn't take up the entire page and Sam had neglected to draw in a background of any sort, he went along and added some more drawings around the edges. Underneath he drew a short four panel comic in which Gabriel was introduced to candy when a random person stuffed a lollipop into his mouth and he swooned.

Sam snorted, then, with a sigh, put it away. Dean was getting back from a hunt with Cas, and he wanted to make some food so that Dean wouldn't get the angel to snap up some pizza. He was thinking pasta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is old as hecka


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> longer than usual...

Sam opened the door to his room to find an archangel perched on his desk looking at his sketchpad. The first couple of seconds processing that was a frozen reaction of complete and utter mortification. Then he reminded himself that he really had no reason to feel that way, and forcing himself to relax, to somewhat mixed results, sighed, walking forward and trying to grab the sketchbook in Gabriel's hands, "what are you doing?".

Without looking up, the archangel pulled it out of momentary reach (and even sitting on the desk it was well within grabbing space for Sam, because Gabriel was short and he was tall), and Sam noted in an accepting sort of way that he hadn't gotten past the first couple of pages where there were landscapes and fruits and other boring practices.

Eventually he would get to people, and then to the section devoted to the Gabriel who Sam refused to accept was Gabriel.

"Heeey, Sammy, you're quite the artist." Gabriel said, "Castiel wasn't kidding."

Ignoring the compliment, because that was weird, Sam sagged and gave up, "Aww, the traitor. He promised not to tell."

Gabriel looked up then, with an almost apologetic smile, "You guys agreed he shouldn't tell Dean-o. If it helps I set him straight about what you probably meant. He might be avoiding you for a while, either out of mixed feelings of failure or embarrassment." He shrugged, then looked back at a page Sam had watercolored to disastrous results. It was of a cloudless afternoon Sam remembered having spent two days after Castiel had set them up for house arrest back before Gabriel had showed up. Gabriel looked out of the window as if to match them, but Sam already knew it was from a different angle.

As if coming to the same conclusion, or perhaps reading Sam's mind, Gabriel sighed and turned it again. Sam made another half-hearted attempt to swipe it out of the archangel's hands, but again, the archangel just pulled it away. 

Sam sighed long-sufferingly, then went and collapsed in the armchair by the window and stared out it, waiting.

He sensed the moment Gabriel came to the first drawing, a head bust of a curly haired youth staring down, expression more or less unidentifiable. It had been sketchy and tentative, unsure of exactly who it was becoming but edged along as if some invisible force wasn't...guiding it per se, but nudging it along. This was before the first picture he'd seen of Gabriel. But only just barely.

Everything else would be after.

Sam kept his mind - and face - purposefully blank when the soft shift in the atmosphere occurred. He supposed that was the angel equivalent of an intake of breath. He felt his nervousness racket up when the page slowly turned, fought the urge to hover behind Gabriel and try to critic his own work. He'd never really gone back to look at or fix it.

He felt the pause, too, and suddenly remembered that he had drawn, at the bottom of the page Castiel had seen, the third one of Gabriel, in tiny cartoon, a person slumped over a notebook (him) in a chair and a serious trench coated man with folded angel wings (Cas), and written above, "OF COURSE it's Gabriel." semi-sarcastically. Then, besides it, smaller, "typical" and, under, after a few moments consideration, "oh well. fuck that."

Gabriel chuckled softly at that, then flipped the page. Immediately the air charged again, cold and electric and making Sam feel light-headed. He couldn't blame Gabriel for being shocked. The first three pages devoted to a nameless, unknown youth had lacked direction and seemed sort of lost. When he'd had an identity, a personality to give the boy, he sprang to life, the drawings were no longer erased or contemplated before being drawn. Sam knew who he was and how he'd do things. And he didn't really think of it as Gabriel because the boy was too innocent, too naive.

He'd also been, for a few small sketches, too hurt and angry at the world, his loss still fresh and painful, his wrath and judgement still divine, even as he denied it. In some, Sam had curiously dredged up his sparse norse god knowledge (okay, so maybe it wasn't sparse. But he wasn't exactly an expert, either) and drawn Loki interacting with the other gods.

Eventually Gabriel got to the page with the comic, and murmured softly, almost in surprise "These aren't half off, you know. About me."

Sam couldn't hold back the undignified snort that rose at that, "You went around Mexico telling donkeys about your favorite pranks?" Actually, that didn't surprise him. Gabriel had probably been lonely. He saw Gabriel's expression twitch, telltale of mind-reading, and added in slight annoyance, _The only company that understood him were other asses!_ though it was all bark and no bite. Gabriel's face twitched again, but this time into a smile, unwilling to admit itself and mischievous all the same. "Anyways," The archangel continues, "you got the candy thing wrong."

Sam stared thoughtfully out the window, "Yeah, that was..." He tilted his head, gaze unfocused on the clouds outside, "Actually, yeah. It was probably someone you helped out, back when you weren't entirely a behind the scenes player. I...was it a kid? You'd reveal yourself to a kid, I think. He probably wanted to give you something because you were friends, not just because you helped him. I'm guessing it was an abusive father...but...huh, maybe it was in thanks. But not entirely for himself. He might have had a mother... or a little sister..."

He was getting lost in the story when he suddenly found Gabriel right in his face, staring at him intently.

Gabriel had stilled in surprise when the story began, then, seeing the expression on Sam's face, froze.

Sam had not looked quite like _Sam_ in that moment. There was a knowing, a _truth,_ a sight that was generally beyond humanity, etched in his eyes, looking upon a past long unthought of. It had struck Gabriel, right in his grace, and he had dropped the book on the desk and was walking up to the human before he was completely aware of making that decision.

Sam snapped out of it, and immediately that wisdom retreated, drained from his eyes as he looked up in shock at the archangel kneeling at the foot of his chair and grabbing his wrists.

"Gabe, what?"

"C'mon." Gabriel breathed, ignoring him, and saying more to himself as he stared intensely into the hunter's eyes," _Where_ did that come from and where did it go?"

Sam started, "Uh?"

Gabriel seemed to relax - although Sam had the sinking feeling that Gabriel just pretended to. "Sorry, Samster." Said Gabriel distractedly, rising and releasing his wrist.

"Wait, Gabe -"

"I gotta go, gigantor, but I'll keep in touch. Or something." Gabriel said, walking towards the door. _Oh, you can bet on it!_

"Gabriel-"

but the archangel was already gone.

Sam stared at the empty air for a couple minutes before he heard a shrill alarm ring downstairs.

" _Shit_ , the pasta!" He mumbles, coming out of his daze and dashing out of the room and down the stairs.

He doesn't realize until later that the sketch pad is no longer on his desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably all you're gonna get for a while...


	5. Chapter 5

Gabriel contemplates the little sketch pad silently. Outside, the night is stifling, and the cool night is hungry - his gaze flits to the pale sand lining the entrance of the cave, it is about -15 degrees Fahrenheit out. The desert is silent, and vast, but not empty.

It's more than it seems.

And Gabriel hopes that it's the book. Hopes that the sketch pad is cursed or blessed or enchanted or hoodoo or _something_.

Anything.

Because Sam has been doing so well, and Gabriel doesn't want to contemplate the idea of Sam having been cursed or blessed or worse, having done something _on_ _his own_.

 _No. Sam wouldn't have. He has no reason to go back to that_ , Gabriel keeps saying to himself.

But the book is just a book. The ink is made like all cheap ink is, the paper is manufactured in the same, rushed, low quality way that all of the other mass produced sketch pads identical to it were, and there is nothing that sets it apart from another sketchpad identical to it except the fact that it references truths.

 ** _Old_** ones.

And it _really_ shouldn't be doing that.

Gabriel sighs, looks down at the empty face drawn on the paper. In the blue light, kid-him looks scared.

 _I **was** scared,_ he thinks, before shutting it with an angry sigh and leaning back against the rock, as if resigned.

But it doesn't make any _sense_.

"Dad-dammit!" He snarls under his breath, the words bursting out, cannons from a ship, beating his free fist on the earth beside him, but not enough force to bruise his inhuman flesh, and not enough to crack the rock. His head falls back to mimic the rest of his posture.

He sits there, arms at his sides, legs stretched out, head cushioned by old rock. He glances halfheartedly at the innocent cover of the sketch book.

"Shit, Sammy," He murmurs, "What'd you get yourself into this time?"


	6. Chapter 6

It is only after three weeks, _three weeks_ , that Gabriel returns. He doesn’t reveal himself, at first. For a couple of days he watches the younger Winchester go about his life. Normal. Quaint. Unassuming.

Mostly.

By the time he gets back, Sam has indeed noticed the sketchbook’s absence, and sometimes, Gabriel catches that far away look cross his face, and he'll reach for it's usual home on his desk and the expression will falter, fade, as confusion disturbs it, ink poured into clear water. His hand will fall away, back to his side, and he'll get up to do something else - anything else, Gabriel thinks - remembering that it is gone.

He wonders what it is that is being again forgotten, what he prevents Sam from fishing out of the depths of the past and plying onto the pages of a small, crappy sketchbook that couldn't have cost more than a _couple cents_ to produce.

It should be worthless, but it weighs heavily in his hands, the mass of old emotional things like a tug of gravity, gravity Gabriel had always been given the option of ignoring. These are the things an angel can sense. This book is important, but not priority, by the normal standards of Heaven. And yet, already, he does not want to give it back, and he'll pretend it's because he is wary of what is happening to the human, but the truth is that these are _his_ moments, bits and pieces of _himself_ , and shouldn't they belong to him?

Ever since he was brought back, it felt like something was missing - nothing important, nothing clear cut and obvious. But like the person who put him back together had jumbled up the parts a bit, hadn't quiet known where to put what. Glued him back together, shut the lid, and then shaken it to see if anything would interesting would happen.

 _Different_.

But Gabriel knew it was the same sort of thing that had happened to Cas when he got brought back - maybe it was a reward, maybe it was an accident. Maybe it was Dad's way of marking them as newly improved angels of free will.

All he knew was that he would give a lot to get more of himself back, and here he was contemplating returning something he felt very strong ownership of.

_I want custody! This kid's just as much mine as yours!_

Why did those words feel so heavy in his mind? It's not like wanting something. It's really really wanting to be _allowed_ to want something. He won't keep it. He can't. But he wants to almost enough to pretend he doesn't have to give it back. That there's a choice involved. Free will or not, this is a gut feeling, and he hates it.

So for a couple of days, he puts it off in the name of observation, but he knows that if there was anything special to see about the Winchester, he'd have seen it already.

So when he _officially_ arrives, it's in the middle of dinner.

It's Dean's night to choose, so the artificial smell of fried hot wings stinks up the dining room like a bad fart. Gabriel's more for sweet things, himself, but he can occasionally manage other stuff if he's got the right barbecue sauce. It's not something he'll do unless prompted to, but it can happen.

An unfortunate and unnecessary glance at the table leads Gabriel to remind himself that he doesn't need to eat, anyways.

Sam startles and Dean gives his obligatory curse, shaking his head as he realizes who it is. Gabriel figures if it had turned out to be Castiel, he would have jumped up like a little girl at an imaginary tea party and given away a hug like a warm plate of food.

 _Not_ that this crap was "food".

Castiel would taste the obese chicken, legs malformed because hormones increased its weight until it couldn't walk, couldn't breath, stuffed like fat, fluffy anchovies, packed and shut in together, crapping and clucking and ignorantly waiting for death.

Not the actual guy, though. He doesn't precede over that usually. Although he was a big fan of the fast food industry, Gabriel recalls.

The sudden urge to turn around and go fuck with some corporations that are ignoring the basic ideas of morality is strong, almost surprising. If anything had changed, it certainly wasn't that. The urge to fix what wrongs had been made was still vibrant in his grace, even if it painted itself to appear more docile.

The worst part was that he could smell it, and it was making him queasy, even though angels don't get queasy, and this is one of the new things, the misplaced pieces, and now he's getting to know the emotion quite intimately, something no amount of sugary meat sauce could fix.

 _He didn't need to eat_. And he could still control whether or not his olfactory worked, so why the hell was some meat making his stomach work up in knots. The things he'd seen - that he'd experienced. He shut off his nose before he started retching empty air.

"Gabriel?" Sam asks, noticing the archangel's stillness, almost distant, so unlike the creature he knew - that which had always been in motion, even if it was small, the illusion of humanity painted on accidentally. The company of thousands of years impressed, peculiar habits attained in an attempt to conform _just_ enough to blend in.

 _Almost_  enough.

At heart - _heart_ , Angels have no hearts to speak of, or truly, none they liked to - he was still, just as all angels were. He hadn't unlearnt the stillness when he came to Earth, merely displaced it, set it aside.

Sam knew this somewhere inside, had traced it, bled it out as ink onto a page.

He recognized it, called it out.

Which poked Gabriel out of his revere. "Hmm? Heya Sammich. Nice dinner."

Sam's face of sharp attention melted seamlessly into one of annoyance, which eased Gabriel's mood a bit.

Sam craved organic foods, although his altruistic attempts to predict how trustable producers were occasionally failed.  Nevertheless, Gabriel would take honey mustard salad over this affront to his senses. Actually, no, he would just not eat. Why limit yourself to yucky food when one didn't have to?

"You okay?" Dean said, as Gabriel paused, still looking at Sam. 

Already, the sketchbook's existence had pressed at Gabriel's grace again, like a murmur in the back of his mind, and he was thinking that grumpy enchain mind voice, _what lies hidden inside of you, human?_

But that snapped him out of it.

"Yeah, yeah, been busy. Anywho, checked in to see what was up with you two chuckleheads. "

He gave an unimpressed sweep of the table, "Annnnd I can see you're busy, _yourself_ , so I'll just see myself -"

He's suddenly reverted back to cowardice. He will not return the sketchbook today, of that he is sure. He will not confront Sam, although he hadn't had much hope of that before. He will certainly not share the issue. He will sit on it. And that was bad because he finds a way to procrastinate when he does that.

He turns to leave, to recollect his courage and then probably fail again at a later date -

"Wait, _Gabe_ -"


	7. Chapter 7

" _Gabe_ \- Hey." there's a pressure on his arm as he had been walking that draws him back, twisting him to face the tallest hunter in existence. Well, the tallest _human_ one, anyways. All Gabriel can think is _What, ho? A portent of mystery!_   _That's a_ human _hand on mine shoulder_. Sam felt normal, so what the hell was happening? A rubix cube that had no idea it was out of alignment. He couldn't sense a damn thing from Sam. 100% Human, tragic flaws and mishaps included.

And he was staring down at him with those big, earnest eyes.

"Can I talk to you?" He says, and _ugh_ , it's such a Sammy look, peering out from under the curtain of moose hair that got loose, all dopey and hopeful and annoying. He's completely naive, relaxed in his little safe haven, blatantly unaware that some weird shit is probably going on in his head. It makes Gabriel want to grate his teeth. These damn Winchesters. Acting like everything is sweet as pie.

 _Because he doesn't know_ , Gabriel's grace chides him, _because you didn't **tell** him_. And honestly, looking at the guy, Gabriel isn't sure if he feels guilty about not mentioning it or if he'll feel guilty when he gets around to telling Sam, because for once in their life, they had normal. Crazy, leave the house on weekends, make pasta for angels who might visit, Pagan god visiting on the weekends normal. And it wasn't fair to take that away from them.

And the soft, somewhat comforting - _somewhat incriminating_ \- pressure of the sketchbook shifts against his chest as he turns around with a shrug, "Sure, kiddo, beats this lame-ass excuse for a meal." He hears Dean mutter something without bite as the he follows Sam up the stairs, "Hey, you just can't appreciate anything not drenched in sugar properly!". An idea sparking grace along the smile he's fixed on his face half-forcedly makes itself known as he leans over the railing, "You were;t complaining when I brought those pies from Paris, _Deanaloo_." He waits half a moment until he hears a grunt of conceded agreement from below before he continues. Sam, whose back is to him, is shaking his head, but they both know he's smiling under that mop of hair.

"Which makes you the Eiffel Tower, _Sammster_. How about that?" He added, to a snort. He trailed his hands along the wall as they walked, the outside light reflecting in the portraits hung up on the wall - pictures that didn't belong to either of the Winchesters, the kind that come with the frames. Because the Winchesters hadn't had much of a chance to get any pictures, happy or no. He knows that downstairs is the one they took at the scrapyard of their surrogate dad - Bob, or whatever. Seemed like one of the few ones. They evidently hadn't had time to get more up here. He pulls back his hand, feeling sober suddenly, "So, Sam, what's up?"

Sam either doesn't notice the lack of a nickname or chooses to ignore it, "It's nothing important, I was just curious about something, and Cas is usually hanging out with Dean." He hears from in front. Which is code for _I don't want to interrupt/be around the nauseating boyfriend tension_. Gabriel can't blame him. Sam ducks a little as he opens the door, his frame squeezing past, and Gabriel can't help but find it slightly adorable. And a mark of victory to himself. _Ha, shortness rules!_

He's half expecting Sam to interrogate him about the missing sketchbook, but instead, he gets a big book slammed - by virtue of it's weight rather than any animosity - on the desk Sam asks him to sit in front of. Gabriel peers down at a cover and reads aloud, just barely containing any sarcasm, "The Bible Bible: The Beings of the Bible".

He looks up at Sam, eyebrows playing jump rope as he tries to decide what question - of the _many_ \- he wants to ask first. Sam rolls his eyes and pulls it open to a page he'd bookmarked with a neon pink post-it note. It is marked with a clean, loopy question mark, that undoubtably belongs to Sam's penmanship.

The page in question is devoted to one _Cassiel_. 

Gabriel exercises his eyebrows some more, hoping to silently convey all that cannot be put into words. Sam should get this, what with the whole Winchester over-meeting of a quota for man-pining and repressed emotions throughout the years.

Sam frowns at Gabriel's blank - except for the eyebrows - expression, "I..." He hesitates, suddenly seeming unsure, "This is Cas, right?"

Gabriel leans back as it starts to click, "No. Cas _tiel_ , with a T, like the Mr. except for the fact that I pity the fool, since he won't get that reference. Don't tell me you've gotten his name wrong _all_ this time?"Gabriel crosses his arms, noting distantly that that's awfully defensive.

Sam slumps, and immediately Gabriel relaxes, frowning, "Okay, spit it Effiel."

Sam scowls but sits down dejectedly, "This book has basically everything on angels. I thought he might be in here."

Gabriel rolls his eyes, "Why? Anything you would wanna know about the wet kitten is probably better answered by the kitten in question."

Sam sighs, then leans forward and peels the post-it note off. It screams anal AP student, but Gabriel won't comment just now on the action. He feels it won't be helpful to the situation.

"I know. It's just... he's kind of busy, in case you haven't noticed. I was just curious." Sam frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. Something was troubling him, and Gabriel couldn't get a clear answer from his current thoughts. They weren't concise sentences, more murky feelings of slight worry. Gabriel couldn't pinpoint if it was because he didn't want to bother Cas, or that Cas was under so much pressure, or if it was actually something else - something _important_.

"Okay, so what do you wanna know? Chances are, I got the answers." Maybe he could figure it out based on the questions Sam had. Except, of course, the Winchester shut him down. 

"No, no, it's fine." He sighed, kneading the bridge of his nose between his eyes, "I just thought it might be him. I'll keep looking."

Gabriel huffed, "Well good luck. It's not like Cas ever got mentioned in our fan fiction. It was always about Jesus or Michael or Lucifer. It won't have him in there, Sam."

This time Sam did notice the lack of a nickname, gaze darting up to meet Gabriel's. 

Angels are not susceptible to that kind of thing - the hypnotizing eye thing. But Gabriel realizes a tad too late that this must be another new, _fun_ upgrade imparted by his second life, because he can't look away from the Winchester.

Logically, he knows he can, but every time he thinks it and wills it, they disconnect, splitting of from each other because he _can't_. His only impulse is to _not_ break it off. For a moment, he taps down fear - unfounded, unused fear, the kind that springs up without any specific cause of anxiety. The eyes watching him don't waver, faded green, twinkling like faded Celtic undergrowth. He feels like the reflection in a mirror. That's _exactly_ what he feels like. He can't break the gaze until Sam does something, and he wonders vaguely if humans have to deal with this crap. If the compulsion he's exerted over them sometimes is the same thing.

He realizes Sam, in that moment, has complete power over him.

"Okay, fine, I have questions." Sam finally says, and like that, a lightbulb bursts as Gabriel's conscious mind returns full blast. They blink at each other in surprise, the dark not quiet dark enough for blindness, before Gabriel snaps his finger and the hot glass on the carpet is gone, and steady light flickers back on.  He shifts, uncomfortable.

"Fantastic, cannons at full blast, Winchester." He says, with a gesture towards Sam as he averts his gaze.

This gets Sam's attention and the weird moment is forgotten. However, it turns out that Gabriel fully and completely underestimated the question machine that is Sam Winchester.

The night is long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Faded Celtic undergrowth' Gabriel's spouting poetry a bit early, am I right?


	8. Chapter 8

Sam's questions are aimless. It quickly turns out he just wants to _know_ , not anything in particular, but _everything_ in particular.

Gabriel thinks that if it had been anyone else, he would have gotten bored halfway through and ditched them, but Sam gets so damn excited, like a puppy tripping over it's own ears. Gabriel isn't surprised he managed to get into Stanford despite his massively - _problematically_ \- absent transcript what with the whole 'not going to school' thing. It turns out Sam is really into Enochian - who knew? Kid's been practicing, and Gabriel's not sure if he finds it touching or adorable. Sam seems to think it might offend him, so that doesn't last long in the subject charts once he clears up a little confusion on pronunciation.

They talk about whatever the previous question prompts Sam to think of. Cas is barely the subject for long before Annael is (He was okay, I mean, a little intense, which you know since he tried to kill you), then Balthazar (Little smarmy dick) then Zachariah (absolute smarmy dick), then Cas again (You know I hear he used to be a little rebel even before you Winchesters went and ruined his life). Sam avoids mentioning Lucifer or Michael or Raphael, and Gabriel would be thankful, but a small, bratty part of him is pissed that Sam thinks he's so fragile.

So when Sam asks, "How did you tell Mary she was pregnant?" Instead of saying, _she didn't even believe me at first_ , the small, bitter part if him says, "What, you mean you haven't used your magic past seeing powers to draw it in your sketchbook?"

Immediately he passes time and slaps himself, and then one more time for good measure before letting it continue.

Sam gaps at him, "What?"

Gabriel mentally slaps himself some more, but then says, "She was pretty cool about it once I explained it to her. At first she thought I was selling girl scout cookies." Or the equivalent. 

Sam nods, but his previous enthusiasm seems dampened. Gabriel inwardly sighs. "Listen, kid -"

"Actually, now that you mention it, I can't even find the damn thing. I guess I lost it." He says it off-handedly, without an ounce of suspicion. 

Gabriel decides to deal with this now. The weight of the sketchbook is already gone, and now it's time to put the idea he'd had as they ascended the stairs to use. "Oh, jeez, Sam, really?" He says with forced cheerfulness, "Wow, I wondered why you didn't mention it to me."

Sam tilted his head, "What do you mean?"

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy -"

" _Gabe_." More a warning about the nickname than his tone, but Gabriel gave in anyways, "I hid it from you. In the house. Prank."

Sam stared at him blankly, "What?"

"You never noticed the origami moose I left in the laundry room? You never thought that was strange? _Hellooo_." He said, faking his annoyance, ignoring the knot in his stomach.

The innocent origami moose in question had actually been chock-full wardings and protective spells. Of course, it hadn't made any difference to Gabriel's observation over the past couple weeks, so he swapped it with one that, unfolded, read something along the lines of -

" **Challenge** : Your precious art book is hidden within the confines of this house. Where might it be? Who knows - I mean, besides me? _Rules_ : Find it without help. If you do, I'll like, grant you a wish or something." Gabriel said it with as much gusto as he could muster, waving his hands around and posing appropriately. He had come up with it on the spot. And it sounded twice as lame as he'd thought it would.

Sam's mouth was slightly open, but he shut it and opened it again as if to say something, then just shook his head, "Okay Gabe."

Gabriel pouted, secretly relieved, "What? Boo on you, Winchester. Maybe I should just keep it, since you don't seem to care."

Sam chuckled, "No, no, I'll play your weird game, Gabe. Whatever."

Gabriel grinned fully, for perhaps the first time since he'd gotten there. He relaxed, wondering how long it would take the Winchester to find the notebook stashed on the backside of a moose painting he'd bought the Winchesters as a housewarming gift a while back.

Probably too obvious, so maybe he should hide it _in_ the painting. That sounded more fun.

A knock sounds at the door, and Dean, good ol' Deaner, leans in, a touch of that hunter-specific suspicion as he peers around the door, flitting across his face for about a millisecond before he catches sight of Sam and - to his apparent surprise - Gabriel.

"Woah, you're still here? I thought you'dve left by now."

"Why, you miss me?"

"As if. I just thought you found us humans boring."

Gabriel grins, turning to slyly wink at Sam, "Well, Sam finds _me_ incredibly interesting, so I thought I'd play nice."

Sam snorts, shaking his head.

"Speaking of, aren't you supposed to be sleeping?"

That caught their attention, "I'm not _five_ , Dean, where's _that_ coming from?" Gabriel emphasizing it with his eyebrows again as he turned back to the older Winchester.

"Since it's 1:37 in the morning and we're going fishing in a couple hours is where." Dean said, tipping his head to stare down his brother.

Sam cursed under his breath, "Shit, I forgot about that, okay, right."

Gabriel got up, and he would have jumped ship but Dean caught his eye for barely a moment as Sam was shuffling the papers he'd been copying neat little notes onto - _Anal AP Student Level Up! You learned a new skill! Meticulous Writing! Your Teacher Pet Abilities have increased by 5!_  -  and gave him a look. A _we-need-to-discuss-something-but-not-around-Sam-don't-leave_ look. Gabriel stretched, "Okay, Eiffel, I'll see ya when I see ya. Dean, you manly man, you, walk a girl out?"

Dean rolled his eyes and walked out, with Gabriel in tow, although he refused the offered arm.

Sam ran out to the railing as they walked down, "Hey, Gabe, thanks! And, you know, I'll look for it. Promise."

Gabriel looked up in surprise, catching Sam's errant thoughts that _maybe Gabe is lonely and wants attention_ , and cackled, half out of spite, half out of genuine delight. Before he could answer, Dean instructed, "Go to bed." And only because he doesn't sound half as bossy as usual, Sam acquiesces with an amused grin.

Gabriel moves the sketchbook into the wall. Spend your attention on _that_ , Winchester!

Gabriel raises his eyebrows at Dean who checks to see that Sam has indeed retreated out of earshot before turning back to Gabriel and leading him towards the dining room, where the food is - thankfully - mostly gone and all that remains is the paper corpses of takeout buckets.

"I need to talk to you about something." He says, picking up the silverware and putting it in the sink.

"Wow, I'm really popular today. Someone tell you guys about the extra ticket I have to the Bahamas, because I already chose my plus one."

Dean was not amused, 'It's about Sam." He said finally.

_Ah._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor, naive Sam


	9. Chapter 9

Gabriel waits in several moments for the silence to abate, but, finally getting fed up says, "Well speak up, I'm too old to wait around for you youngsters."

Dean finishes up clearing the table, "Sometimes he gets bad headaches."

 _Headaches?_ That's not a good sign.

"Since when?" Gabriel tries to curb the blatant intensity of his question, because he needs to keep the situation under control to some extent.

"Well, hasn't happened for a couple weeks." Dean starts wiping the table down.

_No shit, I would have noticed._

"Huh. When was the last one?" He snaps his fingers and the table is sparkly clean. Dean could eat straight off of it's surface and be fine. Disgusting, but fine.

Dean gives him a strange look, and just as Gabriel is deciding to dial back on his interrogating, he notices that Dean isn't staring at anything in particular, gaze unfocused as if a quirky realization just struck him, "Yeah...you've never been around for one, have you?"

Gabriel waits, internally hushing his impatience.

"Last one...? About a month ago, I think." Dean throws the cloth and it lands on the counter.

A month? What had he been doing a month ago?

_Tahiti._

Not worth it.

"How bad?"

Dean winces, "Like, pre-demon blood awakening, future-seeing bad. When he was all set up to be 'Boyking' of Hell or whatever. Made Cas pretty worried."

Which is just an oblivious way of saying it made Dean worry, which in turn made Cas worry.

"And?"

"Nothing. Seems natural. Cas checked for like, tumors or whatever, which would be lucky for us, except, you know, we don't get lucky. He doesn't spout any future crap or anything. And Cas said a prophet - although he isn't, I mean duh - would be compelled to, like Chuck wrote the books. Besides, some other kid - Tree, Tran, whatever - Cas said he's the current prophet, so there's no way it's Sam. And we've been keeping an eye on him, no demon blood, nothing."

Gabriel hums noncommittally, but it's a lie - inside, his gears a whirring, clicking, ticking and rocking away as he processes the new information. He'd already checked for hex bags - no doubt Cas had done the same. No hoodoo, no bad mojo, no nothing.

Only thing was that Sam was compelled to put pen to paper. Even if it was only about Gabriel's past. Should he tell Dean was the real question.

He was about to, _Well see, about that whole 'prophetic' business_ \- except he felt the book, hidden in the wall, pulse along the edges of his grace, like a heartbeat. Something inside him reacted defensively, selfishly, _humanly_.

 _Mine_ , it said, _not for Dean_.

He wanted to agree with it just enough to murmur, honestly, "I'll keep an eye on him." Before clapping Dean on the back and vanishing.

He had research to do. Important, time-consuming (ha!) things.

But first, he'd need a bug.

After all, Cas wasn't around enough to be of proper, reporting use.

Which meant a pit stop in heaven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel shouldn't keep all this stuff to himself


	10. Chapter 10

"Heeey, Balth-y, lil' bro."

The welcome he wasn't expecting didn't come, much to no one's surprise. Balthizar, in his little anonymous piece of Heaven, turned to regard Gabriel coldly. They'd never much liked each other, an unfortunate effect of not knowing each other well enough and a _bad_ first official meeting.

Not that either of them were going to bring it up.

"Gabriel. How unfortunate. To what do I owe the... visit." His current vessel is lean and blonde and perfect for Balthizar, who seems to only have gotten more sarcastic since they last saw each other.

"Well, _see_ , now that you mention it, I have a job for you, ya little nugget of virtue."

Balthizar arched one, imperious eyebrow.

This was going to be hard.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _A surprising insight into Balthazar... or something._

Of all his brothers, Balthazar was perhaps one of the angels who hated Gabriel most. He might have been at the top of the list, in fact. 

Now, this isn't to say that Balthazar hated Gabriel more than life itself (although his hatred was vast and intemperate ) just that most of their siblings did not hate Gabriel. They were vaguely apathetic or loving towards him, so it wasn't very hard to get at the top of the list, no matter how "charming" the archangel could be. 

No, the problem with Balthazar and Gabriel was one that both were touchy about, and it was actually an event that Castiel would be able to pinpoint, even if he would not have known its true significance to them. 

Gabriel had, rather unfortunately, more or less disillusioned his younger brother, quite on accident, or at least unwittingly because Balthazar forced him to. 

It was a mistake, and by that point, it was either scar him for immortality or kill him, as Balthazar was well aware. 

To clarify, the battle in which the archangel Gabriel died, several thousand years ago was also the battle that marked what Castiel would note to be a drastic change in Balthazar's personality. This was because Gabriel had not planned the spontaneous event in which he faked his death, and as a result, there was one, naive and loving brother who saw the entire thing. 

After he had made his escape, Gabriel had not expected to be beset upon by one of his family so soon after forsaking them, but innocent Balthazar, confused by the retreat his elder and beloved brother had made while others called out that he had fallen, had followed him. 

This presented the very emotionally compromised archangel with several difficult choices - either he could lie to Balthazar and let him think this was the will of the Host and hope no superiors would be told, or he could tell Balthazar the truth and threaten him into silence, or he could not speak at all and kill the new threat to his own safety. 

However, he could not bring himself to raise his weapon against one of his siblings, his sole reason for leaving having been that he could not watch his family destroy itself. And so it was that God tested Gabriel on that day. 

Gabriel told Balthazar the truth. 

Not because of any moral obligations, but rather because Gabriel was reminded of when he had tracked down Lucifer when his own older brother had attempted to run away. 

Lucifer had threatened him, then, too. 

So he shattered Balthazar's perception of his entire existence and then fled. 

And for that, after faking his own death once he found he was no longer blind to the failures of the system, Balthazar only had eternal hatred for Gabriel. 

Which left them here. 

"So I have an idea maybe for a job you could kind of do for me definitely." Gabriel hedged. 

Balthazar dropped all pretenses and scowled, "No." 

"You don't even know what it is!" 

"As if it matters with you. I would rather pull out my wings than force myself to suffer your company." Balthazar hissed. 

"Ow, baby bro, right in the heart, ouch." Gabriel feigned his palm over his chest area, purposefully on the wrong side of where his vessel's heart was located. Balthazar grimaced. 

"Luckily for me," Gabriel continued, "I maybe wasn't asking?" 

Balthazar narrowed his eyes at the archangel, "See, I didn't _want_ to pull rank -" 

" _Rank_!" Balthazar scoffed, "Oh honey, that worked once, but never again. Haven't you heard? I'm not even hosting with the others back at the _hive_. Seems they get on fine without me." 

Gabriel smirked, "Yeaaaaaah, about that, see, that's what I'm saying. Who knows how Cassie would react if he heard his old pal, buddy bro Balthazar _LIED_ to him and left the post and let him think he was _dead_ , oh, talking heartbreak, am I right?" he thumped his palm against his chest a couple times empathetically. 

Balthazar's grace hummed to life, enraged but not threatening. 

"How _dare_ you -" 

Gabriel held up two hands pacifistically, "Listen. All I'm saying is, when it eventually comes to light that you faked your own death and abandoned your post, don't you want an archangel to put in a good word for you?" 

"One who preceded me in basically every way." Balthazar muttered under his breath as he turned away, rattled but not willing to show it. 

"Evidently I'm better at getting forgiveness." 

"Oh, is that what this is?" Balthazar again answered sarcastically to himself as he got a drink ready. When he turned around again he had a martini in one hand and a look of empty acceptance on his features. 

"Very well, if you're going to blackmail me, I suppose I ought to know what's so important to hack the decimated ruins of our relationship further." 

Gabriel grinned, even though underneath the facade his grace was squirming uncomfortably, "Fantastic, I left a briefing packet on the front doorstep. Study hard, kiddo, stay in school!" . He turned to leave, "Oh, and brother dear? Your situation would be remedied quicker if you actually told Cas you were alive." 

He was gone before he could hear a quiet, "Assuming I want to go back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I don't have a computer right now and all my story files are inaccessible to me because they're on my old one. Here's something small to stave off your hunger until arrangements can be made.


End file.
